


Room 326

by Janatee



Series: Fitzsimmons [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janatee/pseuds/Janatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on. It’s not hurting anybody. And isn’t this what you’ve wanted? To see what she looks like when she first wakes up? To ask her what she dreamed about?"</p><p>Fitz and Simmons need to share a bed, and Fitz has a moral dilemma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room 326

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was written for the prompt "There's only one bed" and was originally posted on star-spangled-souffle.tumblr.com. Takes place near the end of Season One.

Fitz watched Coulson checking them in, and felt a shiver go up his spine. Staying in a hotel felt wrong. Weird. When Fitz had joined SHIELD, he’d been promised an expansive network of resources: labs, vehicles, bases. But there was no SHIELD, no plane, no safehouses, no _equipment_ , for goodness sake. Just a bunch of antique spy toys and a handful of badges that didn’t mean anything.

At least he had Jemma. Who knew what all of this would be like without her? She was focused on talking to Triplett, so Fitz took that moment to just look at her. At her face, her hair, watching as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. He couldn’t quite tell what was going through her head. It was obvious she felt out of place too.

This was never supposed to _happen._ SHIELD was supposed to protect them. They were supposed to have a plan, or be given one. Now it felt like they were on the run. _But we aren’t,_ Fitz thought, correcting himself, _Once Ward fights them off, he’ll come back, we’ll have the intel on HYDRA, and everything will be back to normal. It’s just a matter of time._

“Alright,” Coulson said, “You and I are in 324,” he said, motioning between Triplett and himself. “You two are in 325,” indicating May and Skye.

Fitz could do the math. His stomach dropped.

“And you both are in 326,” Coulson finished, and looked up at Fitz and Simmons. “I know it’s not ideal, but the limit is two to a room, and I’m not risking your safety by letting you stay alone.”

“It’s not a problem,” piped up Jemma, “Right, Fitz?”

“You spend basically all of your time together anyways,” added Skye, “Come on; let’s go.”

Skye had a point. It wouldn’t be weird. Just both of them sleeping in the same place at the same time. Approximately the same thing happened on the plane, just with the benefit of a wall. But there were things Jemma didn’t know. _I should tell her._ He stole a glance at her again, walking toward the elevator, hair swishing with every step. Jemma.

His heart leapt, as it always did. _How can I possibly tell her?_

_____________________

Jemma and Fitz stood in front of room 326. Fitz’s heart was threatening to beat right out of is chest, and he looked anywhere but at Jemma. His mind was screaming, different thoughts battling back and forth.

_Tell her! Tell her; just do it!_

_No, you’ll ruin everything. Besides, it’d be kind of nice-_

_Shut up, just shut up._

The tiny light on the lock flashed green, and she opened he door. She wheeled her suitcase over the threshold, and walked into the room, Fitz trailing behind her. He looked around the room and took in a sharp breath. He felt a strong need to point out the obvious.  

“There’s only one bed,” he said.

“Yes. That’s what it looks like,” Jemma replied. She walked to the closet and started digging through it. She didn’t seem nearly as uncomfortable as he was. “There are probably extra sheets here, so we don’t have to split. I don’t sleep with a comforter, so you can have it, and I’ll take the side by the outlet. What time do you usually wake up?” Fitz couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She acted as if it was a minor complication and not a horribly awkward dilemma.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re not _actually_ suggesting that we-” he motioned awkwardly to the bed. Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, I am, Fitz.”

“No. No, we’ve got to tell Coulson, switch rooms.” He felt like he was about to scream.

“Don’t be a child, Fitz,” Jemma said, “You don’t want to admit that things are changing, but they are. You’ve got much bigger things to worry about than having your own bed; the whole country is in danger.”

Fitz said nothing, and Jemma could tell what he was thinking.

“As Coulson said, it’s not ideal. But it’s not horribly strange. We’re practically related at this point.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, but his mind was not so complacent.

_You cannot do this._

_She really has no idea. She’ll be fine with it. Haven’t you always wanted to be closer to her? Don’t make a fuss about it. She’ll never know._

_This is Jemma. Jemma. _

_Come on. It’s not hurting anybody. And isn’t this what you’ve wanted? To see what she looks like when she first wakes up? To ask her what she dreamed about?_

Fitz could say nothing to that.

_____________________

Jemma walked out of the bathroom. She left her damp hair in a messy tangle, deciding to bother with a brush later. She left the bathroom light off so as not to wake Fitz. Her eyes squinted, unadjusted to the darkness, and she walked carefully across the room. She finally crawled into bed, plugging her phone into the charger. The screen emitted a bright glow, and she turned to see if it was shining into Fitz’s eyes.

Fitz was gone.

It was the middle of the night. Where could he have possibly gone? Was he in the other room? Could he have left and forgotten the key? Had HYDRA found them?

 

She bolted out of bed and ran to the door.

“Ow,” said a pile of blankets. She stumbled backwards.

“Hello?”

“Watch where you’re walking, Jemma,” said the pile, “I don’t fancy waking up to a handful of bruises.”

Fitz had made a little cocoon for himself out of the comforter she’d discarded, and was snuggled up in the hallway leading to the door. He’d position himself in a way that blocked her from his line of sight, giving her the most privacy possible. She smiled for the first time in several days. Fitz hadn’t changed; everything was going to be okay.

“Sorry,” she said, “Go back to sleep.”

“That’ll be a bit easier if you don’t trample me.”

“I’ll do my best, Fitz.”


End file.
